


Home, Sweet Home

by Penny_Jamieson



Series: Franedict [2]
Category: Benedict Cumberbatch - Fandom, British Actor RPF, Original Female Character - Fandom, Real Person Fiction, Sherlock (TV) RPF
Genre: Cooking, DaddyBatch, F/M, Family, Romance, Romantic Fluff
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-02-25
Updated: 2014-02-25
Packaged: 2018-01-13 17:47:28
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,328
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1235509
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Penny_Jamieson/pseuds/Penny_Jamieson
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A one-shot fluffy daddybatch fiction.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Home, Sweet Home

The thick, antique oak door made a creaking sound as Benedict closed it shut. Usually that sound was followed by screams and a small earthquake from the living room, but today – silence.

“I’m home.” Benedict yelled down the hallway while he put away his coat and shoes. Still silence.

The wooden floorboards protested when he walked over them and towards the kitchen. All the noises and the ever present aura of its former owners were one of the main reasons why the Cumberbatchs had chosen the old farm house when they had been house hunting a few years back. Right away it had felt like home, even dirty and run down.

And like everyone before them they used the kitchen door as a pin board, as proven by the hundreds of little holes in the wood. Right now it had a sign pinned to it; red crayon on a cut up cardboard box, the letters clearly the penmanship of a preschooler.  
“Do not entr!”  
Between the T and the R a more refined handwriting had wedged the missing E using a black felt tip marker and added a roughly sketched skull to emphasize the message.

Benedict proceeded to the living room but found it locked too.  
Well, then he would just shower first.  
Twenty minutes later he was back downstairs and knocked on the kitchen door. 

“Darling…?”

The door opened ever so slightly and Fran pocked her head through. Her brown hair was pinned up in a practical chignon, a few strands having come loose and framing her face. A dust of flour powdered her nose and her cheeks were flushed from the heat in the kitchen.

“Hey love. We’re almost done. We didn’t expect you quite so early.” 

She pursed her lips and Benedict kissed her. Fran drew a deep breath and whispered into his ear, “Hmmm, you smell nice.” She placed a peck on Benedict’s cheek and added a bit lounder, “Why don’t you sit by the nook? I’ll get you something to drink and we’ll be ready in about, uhm…” She turned her head to look toward where the stove would be, “Ten minutes.”

“Sounds good.” Benedict lowered his head, his voice barely audible. “You smell incredible too. Tomato, garlic, and a hint of, let me guess, basil?” He licked her cheek. “Could be thyme too. Let me try again.”

“You’re terrible.” Fran slapped his shoulder. “I have children in here. Now go and sit in your corner. Off you pop.”

The corner was actually a cozy reading nook on the other side of the entrance hall. The huge window overlooked the garden and pillows and blankets were piled on the deep sill. A wrought iron table and a winged chair completed the arrangement. On the table a cup with a rest of cold tea and some chocolate wrappers accompanied a thick paperback book. One of the pages had been folded diagonally, its corner sticking out from the top of the book.

“Oh Franny…”

It drove Benedict insane to see his wife treat books like that but she insisted that a good book had to look that way. Used and broken and torn, just like the characters that lived inside it. Since she usually read paperbacks and had more respect for hardcover books Benedict had eventually dropped the issue and just accepted Fran’s quirk.

He settled down, adjusting one of the pillows behind his back. In the dim light of dusk he could make out two snowmen on the lawn. One accessorized with a wooden sword and a metal bucket for a helmet, seemingly protecting the smaller snow princess by its side. Benedict squinted to make out what the snowy figure held in its hand.

“Is that a wrench that princess is holding?” he turned to Fran who brought him a glass of red wine.

“Benedict, you really should know your daughter better than that. That’s not a princess. That’s the 13th Doctor and her sonic screwdriver.”

“Of course it is. What is going on in the kitchen though?”

“Dinner.”

“And why am I not allowed to ENTR then?”

“Because it’s a surprise. They are almost done now, I promise.” Fran sat on Benedict’s lap, cupping his face in her hands. “How about I let you have a little starter while you are waiting?”

Benedict’s hands ran up Fran’s thighs and rested on her buttocks. “I’d very much love that. I’m starving.” Their lips had barely touched when a loud scream from the kitchen startled them both.

“Mooooooooom! Help! Quick!”

“Shit.” Fran ran into the kitchen, moments later yelling into Benedict’s direction. “It’s fine. It’s all good. No one’s hurt!”

Benedict took a long sip of the wine, looking into the dark garden again and running his hand through the hair on the back of his head. He enjoyed his life so much; everything he ever wanted had come true. Life was perfect and yet he couldn’t help but feel a little sting inside; he always did in moments like these, when he feared that his wife or children had been hurt, that he couldn’t protect them.

A small voice stopped his thoughts dead in its tracks.

“Daddy?”

The usually pale face of his daughter was bright pink, whether from excitement or from cooking Benedict was unable to say. He could tell though that Fran had made an effort trying to style the unruly blond curls into pig tails. Clara wore a silver woolen dress with a red apron over it. She cleared her throat.

“May I show you to your table, sir?” accompanying her question with a slight curtsy.

“That would be lovely, my lady.”

Even at five her hand completely vanished in his grip, reminding Benedict how small she was, even when she told everyone that she was a big girl already.

The living room door had been unlocked but Clara made them stop anyway.

“Close your eyes.”

Benedict put his hands on her shoulders. He had learned the hard way that getting led by a small child while one’s eyes were closed was safer that way. Still he squinted with one eye, making sure she was keeping enough distance to the furniture.

“Surprise!”

Benedict opened his eyes to a colorful table setting: a red checkered table cloth, white candles in green wine bottles, napkins with the Italian flag printed on them folded into little ships, and big sea shells with their names on them.

“Benvenuti in Italia, sir.”

“Thank you very much, Kilian.”

“You sit here, daddy.”

Clara was obviously very excited about this, while Kilian tried to appear calm and collected though Benedict could see in his eyes how proud he was. Obviously he thought that 7 was too old for childlike excitement as displayed by his younger sister.

“And mom, that’s your place.”

Fran sat down across from Benedict, smiling content.

“We will be serving Tagli… uhm… Tagli… What are those noodles called again, mum?”

“Tagliatelle, Clara.”

“Yes, that with meat sauce. And we made all of it ourselves. Even the Tagli-noodles.”

Benedict look surprised. “You did?”

“Yes,” agreed his son. “Mom only told us what to do, but we did it all alone.”

“That’s true. They are natural cooks.”

“Well, I’m very looking forward to tasting it then.”

The children disappeared into the kitchen only to return with two plates shortly after. When they had served their parents they got their own dishes and settled down.

"What do you think?"

Three pair of eyes starred at Benedict. He twisted a few noodles around his fork trying to get as much of the meat sauce on as possible. He put the food in his mouth and slowly began to chew.

The noodles were a bit too soft and the sauce could have done with a little less thyme but Benedict had never enjoyed any dish more than this.

“Perfect.”

Kilian and Clara high fived each other and beamed with joy and pride. As did Fran.

Yes, life indeed was perfect.

**Author's Note:**

> If you would like to know how Benedict and Fran met please read my latest fiction "Blue Love" (http://archiveofourown.org/works/1357222)
> 
> I have never before published any of my fics, so please be gentle with any critique you may have. Also I am not a native speaker.


End file.
